


Stack

by biswholocked



Series: 221s [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: 221, 221B Ficlet, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-05
Updated: 2014-11-05
Packaged: 2018-02-24 05:47:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2570381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biswholocked/pseuds/biswholocked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Sherlock was a little ways downward, sitting on the fire escape that protruded from the building; a duvet was wrapped around his shoulders and a cigarette hung from his lips.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stack

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mylittleficlet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mylittleficlet/gifts).



> This takes place in some AU/ canon deviation where John moves back into 221B shortly after Sherlock comes back.

The flat was just as cluttered as usual, stacks of books and paper covering the furniture and experiments invading the kitchen, but something about the space felt...empty.

John yawned and rubbed his eyes, trying to figure out where his madman of a friend had got to. _Hasn’t left, coat’s still hanging. Bedroom? Did he actually decide to sleep?_ Sherlock had been tinkering with something when John had gone to bed, but... _He has to be somewhere_ , John thought, and wearily shuffled down the hall into Sherlock’s bedroom. Knocking lightly on the half-closed door, John entered. The room was vacant, but the window was open; John walked over and craned his neck out.

Sherlock was a little ways downward, sitting on the fire escape that protruded from the building; a duvet was wrapped around his shoulders and a cigarette hung from his lips.

Slowly, John made his way onto the fire escape and climbed down to where Sherlock was sitting, settling onto the cold metal with a soft groan.

Sherlock exhaled, releasing a plume of smoke into the chilled air, fingers trembling slightly.

“It was Serbia,” Sherlock said hoarsely. _Again_.

John took hold of his hand, pressed his lips to the cold skin. _I’m sorry_. 

Sherlock wrapped the blanket around them both. _I know._ And so they sat, counting their breaths.

**Author's Note:**

> for mylittleficlet. They sent me a few prompts about a week ago, and I finally got around to filling the second one . Sorry that it doesn't really have much to do with stacks. Hope you like it :)


End file.
